


A Very Horrible Thing Indeed

by FireFleshAndBlood



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Dark Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFleshAndBlood/pseuds/FireFleshAndBlood
Summary: Johnny C.'s attempt to uncover his spooky, melodramatic past was a bit of a flop. Even worse, the police have caught onto his murderous activities.  Good thing Jimmy was sent back from hell by the infernal powers that be to keep Johnny alive...with a catch. Jimmy is indestructible and must follow Johnny wherever he goes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I feel this fanfic is owed an explanation. This was written in about 2005 and was pretty awful but a JTHM fan reminded me of it in a very nice letter and so I thought it best to tidy up and post it with some much needed editing. This was never finished during its original run on fanfiction.net...but now it will be. It may resemble a beaten up filler bunny but I promise there is a pseudo plot and point in here, even if the humour is really uhm...so low brow it's hovering under the ninth circle of hell. If you have a copy of the old version, please don't post it around. I feel there were some really stupid/offensive jokes in that one that made sense to 2005 goth edgelord me, but don't really match the classier more worldly goth edgelord I became. Anyway, enjoy!

I

 

 

 

 

"I HAVE HEAD EXPLODY!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

"OH DEAR GOD NOOO!"

 

"GWAAAMMAAA!! YOU KILLED GRAWMA! I MUST DESTWOY YOUU!"

 

The piles of crap around Heaven’s gate trembled with the might that only a thousand heads exploding simultaneously could create. Even in hell, Senior Diablo could hear the horrible splorting echoing down from above.

 

Shaking his head in disbelief he sighed, "So he's finally here..."

 

Sure enough an annoying 'foof' noise alerted him to a new denizen of the damned plains.

 

"Owww," the voice groaned.

 

The devil himself gasped in horror at the site. It was..no it couldn't be! But it wasn't, well not really. In appearance they were very similar, although the man, if he could be called that, looked like a taller more nourished version of the horrible waste lock 'Johnny C". Not to mention his face was far more pocked mark than the latter. In essence, it was as though the original had been stretched out and perverted to create this cadaverous imitation. No, he sighed, mentally flipping through his list, this was far worse then Mr. C, this was his astute follower, a rabid fan and horrible imitator. It was...Jimmy. They had been expecting him for quite some time now.

 

"Man, that head exploding thing was so cool!" he said, wiping the gore off of his crappy threads while shaking the dirt from his boots. Looking around he quickly assessed his situation.

 

"Hey this is hell!" he said excitably, "but," he pouted,"I feel ripped off. All my Cradle of Filth albums lied! It looks just like the ordinary world."

 

Senor Diablo coughed drawing the young man's attention.

 

"Yes yes, your mentor said that as well."

 

"Johnny??" his eyes lit up like a sickly Christmas tree.

 

"Don't get your hopes up. He's been here and gone long before your sorry corpse graced this pit," Senor Diablo drawled, "besides what would possess you to follow him now? It was his insane urges that gutted you like a fish in the first place."

 

"Naw, he was just playing around. I didn't mind being hacked open that much anyway and hey, I got to be my idol's murder victim! How cool is that? So uh...they said I didn’t belong here. Can I go back home now?" Jimmy ranted, " I miss stalking Nny."

 

He stared at Jimmy aghast at his behaviour,"you really DON'T take a hint do you?"

 

Jimmy just grinned stupidly, apparently interpreting the comment as praise.

 

Senor Diablo thought for a moment, then slowly smiled, as a horribly just idea settled on him and he made a quick decision.

 

"Alright. You're obviously another one of those pitiful waste locks," Senor Diablo grumbled," which have been malfunctioning at an alarming rate. Now if I do send you back, you must understand it will be horribly difficult for you to die BUT if you try anything foolish, say like imitating your little *cough* friend's past behaviour, then you'll get caught. In fact this very moment 'Nny' as you call him is being hunted down by a barrage of police."

 

"What?? Quick! Send me back! I gotta help him!" Jimmy squealed with all the devotion inherent in his rabid fanboy self.

 

"Wait!" Senor Diablo said, pausing for dramaticism, "usually we'd send you spiraling back into your own body, but as you know, it is in itty bitty pieces rotting in Mr. C's basement."

 

"Hn. Oh yeah," Jimmy said, "so uh…how do I go back then?"

 

"Well we're giving you a new body," chuckled Senor Diablo, "it's virtually indestructible you see, narrowing your chances of dying from slim to none. Even the incorrigible Johnny couldn't do away with your sorry self now. However you must operate this terribly difficult to terminate body under one particular rule."

 

"Yeah yeah," he said, eyes ablaze with the thought of being in his idol's presence again, "what's the deal?"

 

"As expressed previously, which is why you have not been subjected to torment on these unearthly plains, you too are a minor but significant waste lock. Since now your putrid filth has been flushed into the nether realms, we have but one purpose for your horrid existence to fulfill. You must keep an eye on our malfunctioning waste lock, the one and only Johnny C., you must be around his presence constantly, in fact you may never leave his side for a significant period of time. Failure to do so will result in your soul being torn off the mortal plane and chucked back here to wallow in doom."

 

Oh the glimmer in young Jimmy's eyes! It was like the thousand lights of a terribly diseased heaven had prostrated themselves in their depths. His happiness only echoed the sheer evil glee Senor Diablo was experiencing at the thought of Johnny's impending torture. Although not necessarily in the plans, it was definitely worth whatever future horrors he may unleash to pay back the homicidal maniac's horrible stint with the head explosions in Heaven. His subordinates would be bitching about mopping up that mess for centuries, the mere thought of the damned endless whining about this new incident made his horned head throb in agony. This was his sweet sweet vengeance against the un-terminateable but annoying Mr. C.

 

"Well," he said suppressing a hideous laugh, "go to work Jimmy...and do it well. Your flesh depends on it."

 

"Yay!" Jimmy squealed before being puffed back to the mortal plane.

 

Senor Diablo sighed the sigh of a job well done.

 

"Might as well check with the bookkeeper upstairs to see what bizarre twist of fate I've unleashed," he chortled.

 

The Gatekeeper up in Heaven was almost glad to see him.

 

"Did you really get rid of that horrible Mmy person?" he asked practically bouncing with glee.

 

"Yes yes, as only I could being lord and master of all darkness. Impressive no? Now be a good angel and toss me the ‘Fate Of All Things’ volume under the desk to the right. "

 

"Sure thing sir," he giggled.

 

Flipping through the book he noticed little had strayed from the Creator's previous master plan. At least he'd have only minor paperwork to do.

 

"Hmm," he said flipping to the part about waste locks, "what IS in store for Nny and his little friend," he was seriously hoping it would be a painful death resulting in an unbearably uncomfortable purgatory. It was always humid up there, always terribly, terribly humid.

 

Senior Diablo’s eyes grew huge. As he turned the book sideways, his horns slumped, in fact it seemed all the colour drained from his face that very instant. He chucked the book back onto the desk muttering, "I don't even want to know the sick shit God was drinking when he thought up THAT little event."

 

The angel shrugged while picking up the book flipping to the offending page.

 

"OH DEAR GOD NO!" he managed to shriek before expelling vomit out of every possible orifice, "BLEEAAARRGGHH!"

 

Damned Elize happened to be around, cleaning up the hideous second explody mess Jimmy had left in his wake when she noticed the angel tossing cookies.

 

“What the hell is his problem” she sighed, then noticed the book on the corner wide open.

 

Bravely picking it up, she stared at the illustrated book of all fates. Similar to Senior Diablo, she made a face then turned the book sideways, right side up, then upside down.

 

"Geez, I don't know what's so weird about gay po-...oh.” Her eyes finally caught the revelation revealed, “Oh dear god……Is that who I think it-…!!!"

 

Elize discreetly put the book down, while the angel ran around screaming still barfing on everything within a ten mile radius. From a little drawer, to the left of a large book stack she took out a red sticker that clearly said "WARNING" and stuck it on the cover.

 

While watching the floor she had just cleaned becoming soiled, she sighed heavily.

 

“More mops are definitely in order.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

II

 

The roads had been blocked, police cars flanked on either side. Flashing, horrible lights permeated the area as it was filled with numberless police squads. They had the riot shields, the megaphones, the beating sticks, in fact everything short of nuclear firepower was being employed to aid in the suspect's capture.

 

"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR," the megaphone voice boomed.

 

One police woman whispered to her colleague, "do we really need all this fire power? He's only one man, barely armed with a knife."

 

The chief shook his head overhearing them nearby, "that 'only one man' killed everyone in a Taco Hell with only a SPORK!”

 

The police woman remained silent in the face of his outburst in only the way someone used to dealing with their superior's insanity could possibly do.

 

“Do you know what that is deary?" he said, turning to her rather sweetly.

 

The police lady tentatively shook her head.

 

"A SPOON-FORK MONSTROSITY!!" the chief screamed, spraying spittle all over his comrades, " the likes this world has NEVER SEEN!!! He's hit the coffee shop too, the dance hall and dear god the poor convenience store clerk, dead with a dooky in his pants," he tearfully took of his hat and held it in mourning.

 

His subordinates had that 'no offense sir but we're really doubting your sanity' look plastered all over their faces.

 

"In fact," he said trembling with the sheer madness of his policey power, "screw this whole 'come out nice and peacefully crap'. SHOOT ON SITE MEN!! MEH HEH HEH HEH!" his fat overladen tummy jiggled like an evil bowl full of jelly.

 

Every squad on site simultaneously widened their eyes in fear.

 

And where was our hero during all this?

 

Hiding his sexy bony ass behind his beaten to shit grey car, that's where.

 

Nny crouched down, the sweat beading on his forehead. He hadn’t been this adrenaline filled since well…that time in art school, when he was in that orgy with those dudes and they pulled out a big ol’ double dildo. Delightful that during his attempts at discovering more about his dark and spooky past, he discovered it wasn't so much dark and spooky as pathetically lonely and filled with really boring mandatory university level art school classes. Oh, and he had been the school bicycle, probably out of boredom. Fantastic. That didn't make him want to puke out of every orifice or anything. But enough about the dildo incident, right now there were probably infinite numbers of police personnel waiting for him the moment he stepped a single steel toed boot outside the bullet ridden automobile he now hugged for dear life.

 

In fact…

 

He slithered his foot towards the edge of the car testing their mood.

 

“YEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!” even Johnny could not contain the girlish scream that burst forth from his lungs when umpteenth number of police person shot the rear end off of his car.

 

Apparently the situation had worsened. Though, a few weeks ago he would have jumped at the chance to go down in a blaze of glory, he really wanted to stay alive at the moment so he could figure out his both horrible boring and apparently quite perverse past.

 

“Fook this really sucks.”

 

Conceivably after a few hours of sitting crouched down like that behind a car he’d either get a serious muscle cramp and spasm out into the bullet torrents or just get bored, run the hell out and die smered on the road. Neither option seemed particularly tempting.

 

FOOMF!

 

“What the hell?!” the police officers screamed.

 

A similar pair of black boots now stood in front of the car, pacing back and forth.

 

“Hey Nnny! Uh..Nny? Damn where the hell are you?”

 

That voice…so eerily familiar…Johnny’s body shuddered, clutching ever closer to his car.

 

“Hey! Dork! Get the hell out of the way!” various police personnel accosted.

 

“Woo! They brought out the big guns!!” the voice squealed in excitement.

 

“Look Mr. NuGoth wannabe, get the fuck out of our range or we’ll kill you!” the chief threatened.

 

“Hmm,” tongue stuck out in thought, the wonderful cogs in Jimmy’s brain cranked deciding this would be a great time to try out the whole indestructible thing.

 

“Shoot me!!!” he said enthusiastically, arms outstretched.

 

Blammo, Thwack and other Batman sounds. Yup. They sure were shooting him up good, sadistic SOB the chief was to be killing a barely legal teenager. Not that it really bothered Jimmy any, he was prancing around with glee sucking up the bullets, hell it was a special moment for him, he was literally taking a bullet for his hero. How cool was that? Where the hell was his hero anyway…

 

Poor Johnny, curled up behind his car, hearing all those gun shots not directed at him. He had heard the voice and paled at its recognition.

 

“Oh nononono,” he had said mentally, “that is not fucking funny!”

 

As soon as he had uttered the proclamation there was Mmy in all his glory, with his shirt kinda ruined from all the blood and bullet holes but still whole and very much alive.

 

Glimmering with all the glee of a ten year old in battle, Jimmy grabbed Nny’s small wrists, “C’mon Nny, lets go!” It was like a horrible scene from one of those old war movies. Mmy tossing Nny over his shoulder while running past the police person’s who had no holy hell clue what to do after wasting their ammo on a kid that wouldn’t die. Not that Johnny really knew what do to either. His eyes were saucer shaped after the realization hit him that somehow Mmy was alive and well and…invincible…or something.

 

“Uh..” he started, but was quickly cut off.

 

“This is SO COOL! Senior Diablo was right! I’m freakin’ indestructible!!!”

 

“Right” Nny said with all the lacklustre of a dying thing, “are you going to put me down at some point, or what.”

 

“Yup.” Mmy said, but just kept right on running with his extremely put out hero tossed over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah ok. Like when?!” Nny’s irritation was slowly growing along with his sense of impending doom.

 

“When we get to your place. Hee!”

 

“Great, just fucking beautiful. Hey…HEY! Get your hand off my ass!”

 

Oh how Senor Diablo cackled in hideous delight deep in Hell; spidering his bony fingers together with a mocking smile creeping across his lips. The Jimmy thing had been his most brilliant act of revenge yet, with glee he cackled, his spooky voice echoing around the bowels of the underworld. He knew Johnny’s fantastic torture had only just begun.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

III

 

With a loud thud, the door flew open to house 777.

 

"Wow, it's good to be back!" Jimmy squealed.

 

Johnny lurked in, the weight of impending torture heavy on his shoulders. Not only had he learned next to nothing about his past during the little vacation he took, but it seemed the omnipotent powers that be deigned him fit enough to be punished for his past transgressions. At least that's what he was interpreting this as. Some horrible personal hell. Thus Senor Diablo had sent Jimmy back, as a divine punishment. Wonderful. At least hell wasn't a dream. Not sure about heaven though...Where did he put that axe..oh wait...right. He's indestructible. Fook.

 

"Oh, and look hey I remember that! But hey...you changed that painting to the other wall and...where's that meat thing?"

 

Eerie how his insane follower kept a better inventory of the things in house then he did. Huh. Jimmy's rambling had actually prompted something. Something useful. Johnny finally recollected that he had always liked painting, a lot. It had been his major in art school. Well at least that wasn't...oh dear god no, he was remembering some horrible awkward romantic scene between himself and a younger co-ed that involved paint brushes and giggling and BLECH. There went that singular happy thought flushed down his mental toilet. Time to writhe in the bodily waste of misery again, yipee!

 

"Man I'm hungry. You got any food Nny?"

 

Johnny C. stared back at him incredulously.

 

"Do you ever shut up?"

 

Mmy grinned the chipperest most vomit inducing grin ever expelled by a human being.

 

"Nope" he giggled.

 

Nny marched his scrawny ass over to the wrecked couch in front of the TV. After a life threatening situation, the realization that he was now condemned to this inescapable life with Mmy, there was nothing he'd like better then to drown his sorrows in front of the television. Preferably while watching a show that had lots of explosions and rabid animals attacking inbred hicks. Yess...and that great commercial where the whole family gets diarrhoea. If it was still running...

 

Rambunctious sounds could be heard in the kitchen.

 

SHLUCK! "Ow hey!"

 

Mmy called out, "Nny, why the hell would you booby-trap your fridge?!"

 

He peeked his head over the edge of the couch only to see Mmy with a huge carver blade stuck in his face. It didn't seem to hurt the kid much even when he tugged it out. Nny watched, his heart sinking as the wound closed itself up almost instantaneously.

 

"Really, it's a bit much dontcha think?" Mmy said scurrying back to the kitchen.

 

Why HAD he done that?

 

Oo...spooky moment of clarity rising...fog of the past lifting..wait wait...oh. Well that was disappointing.

 

"I was on a diet," he said.

 

Mmy peeked around arching his eyebrow, "You're a stick. Why would you be on a diet?"

 

"It was a long time ago," Nny grumbled, "I wanted to fit in a dress." Whoah. Did he just say that?

 

Wait. HAD HE REALLY DONE THAT?

 

Jimmy grinned a huge and horrible grin.

 

"NO WAIT! It'snotwhatyouthink!" Johnny shrieked while horribly vaulting on the couch, somehow understanding he had given Jimmy a very wrong idea.

 

"Man, I bet you'd look SO CUTE!!" he squealed like a girl who had just found the most adorable puppy to molest.

 

"It was a COSTUME PARY!! A COSTUME PARTY!!"

 

"Heh heh," Jimmy giggled, "suuuure."

 

“WHY am I remembering all this DOOKY?!” Johnny wailed, clawing at his face.

 

After a few more moments of Jimmy relishing in Nny's embarrassing little secret, (“Sooo was it a short dress?” “No you absolute ARGGh where's a self destruct button when you need one!”) and rummaging in the kitchen, he emerged slightly mouldy sandwich in hand; then with no further warning, plopped himself down right beside Nny on the couch.

 

Johnny squiggled over to the farthest corner from Mmy possible. The kid seemed oblivious to this, and kept right on munching the slightly expired bread and...was that lettuce?

 

"Won't that make you sick?" he said staring dubiously at the odd concoction.

 

"Naw probably not. Indestructible and all. Awww I didn't think you cared," Mmy giggled.

 

Ooo the bristles that rose on Johnny's back, "I don't. But if you puke it'll ruin what's left of the carpet."

 

"You don't have to be a jerk," Mmy pouted.

 

"A...jerk," a virtual rumble could be heard, like that time when that lady called him 'wacky' and everyone wouldn't stop saying that godforsaken word, " a JERK?! You barge into my wretched little house, TWICE even, eat my mouldy food and then call me a ..JERK??"

 

Aww lookit Mmy with his big teary eyes. His hero yelling at him was a bit too much to take. Jimmy’s eyes were large and puppy like, watery with brimming worship for Johnny, who sighed piteously at the sight. Why should he feel like crap for yelling at him? It was against his nature, but he did. Weird. He had killed him the first time he had come here without regret or remorse and now over something so small, so minute, he felt compelled to apologize. Maybe a little of his sanity HAD returned, even if he couldn’t remember much about the time before Nailbunny and the crew.

 

Maybe he wasn't so much _guilty_ as really fucking lonely.

 

Regaining his fragile composure, Johnny slid down from the high perch on the couch he had taken to rant, sighing, "look I'm sorry. I'm stressed ok? We're obviously stuck together for a very long time so lets just try and make our mutual existences as painless as possible."

 

The happy glimmer soon returned to Jimmy's eyes.

 

Like _that_ was ever going to happen!

 

Nny tried to lose himself in the horrible show he was watching. The hick was getting attacked by gophers, and was being gnawed alive while his relative taped it. It wasn't doing a whole lot though to relieve the horrible feeling of ultimate DOOM that had settled over his mindset. He knew nothing about his past beyond horrible...dooky...things...he'd travelled endlessly and not found so much as a birth record or an old job resume. Even the art school his brain kept recalling wasn't like any of the local schools in the area, he knew this because he had been to them all in an act of sheer desperation and had stabbed one professor in the face when he called his outfit 'beneath the notice of the avante-gard' but that adventure had taken place during happier times. Not like now when he couldn't take two steps without a random police person popping out behind his bony ass to arrest the crap out of him for so much as glancing at a butcher's knife. And there was no way Johnny was going to spend any time in the dysfunctional hell pit known as prison. Society was prison enough for him, thanks.

 

"So..." Johnny said, "what happens to you once I'm dead?"

 

Mmy licked his finger clean of the sandwich remnants, "whelp, Mr. Devil said that I'm supposed to be your eternal companion here on earth so I go wherever you go. I guess that means when you’re dead I just follow you to whatever realm you end up in. Pretty sweet, huh?"

 

Nny's eye twitched. There went death as an escape route. He bet Jimmy would just love being stuck by his side for all eternity. Great.

 

He tucked his knees in closer to his chest just as Mmy burst into a hideous round of cackling as the hick person was devoured by a combined force of gophers and badgers while the relative taping screamed in horror.

 

It was going to be a very long night.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

IV

 

Two days it had been since Johnny's 'rescue' by his biggest and most obnoxious fan, and for two days Jimmy hadn't stopped perusing his paintings, wandering in his destroyed basement downstairs (which miraculously Jimmy never got lost in) and just generally annoying Johnny past the brink of insanity.

 

"I brought food!" was the triumphant cry Jimmy uttered as he once again kicked open the door and strolled right in. Thankfully he slammed it closed behind him.

 

Johnny was once again, lying miserably on the couch. Though he did eat a little more than before, which wasn’t saying much, it was never at home. He had no effin idea how to prepare anything past a sandwich and maybe opening a can. Well he could make kraft dinner at one point, but that would have only stuck if it were like that whole never forget after learning to ride a bicycle thing.

 

Jimmy was one of those insanely skinny people that were always eating but just never seemed to gain a pound for it. It almost made Johnny sick the amount he could consume in an hour, it was like what he ate in a month or something. He guessed that was why Jimmy’s complexion had been so bad, all that stuff had to go somewhere. On that note it had cleaned up a bit since last he saw him, he supposed death did that to people. The general receding of Mmy's skin rash (but not the acne scars, giving him an almost leprous appearance) revealed homely gawky features that were just as Johnny remembered from the last time they crossed paths. Not that it made Jimmy any more attractive, any physical ok-ness was infinitely drowned out by his horrible personality.

 

“Yeah great,” Nny grumbled to himself, “ Ever take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror?” Maybe attempting to be a little less hypocritical then the people he killed was a good thing. Sorta.

 

A nostalgic sigh escaped his lips. Ah killing. What a blast it had all been, but according to Mmy’s random spewage of words, he was now officially off the universal waste disposal system and able to get caught. The police were proof of that. It was like the pressurized top off of his tin can life had just been blown open for the whole world to see. Mm delicious tin can contents. What was Jimmy making in there anyway? Was it even worth getting up to see?

 

“I made TACOS!! Isn’t that CoooOOOoool?” Jimmy squealed jubilantly.

 

“Yeah great whatever,” Johnny grumbled sinking ever deeper into his shitty couch, vaguely hoping it would somehow devour him.

 

“Aww whatsa matter?” he crooned.

 

Johnny’s eye twitched.

 

“Hey you know what would cheer you up? A TACO!!” Mmy exclaimed happily as he jutted a plate out in front of his face.

 

Johnny tried to absorb himself further into couch country, “I’m not that hungry. You enjoy it for me,” he said sarcastically.

 

Jimmy shrugged and began scarfing his food down happily. Johnny paled. What the hell was in those anyway? Sour cream, cheese…pickles? Salsa some weird indescribable meat thing…

 

His stomach growled really loud. Jimmy stared at him with a gleam in his eye.

 

“So you ARE hungry! Kay now you HAVE to eat my tacos!” he cackled.

 

One of the offending tacos was thrust once again in his face. Nny felt doomed, there was no way he could NOT eat one of Jimmy’s horrid taco experiments if he wanted a chance in hell of him ever shutting up.

 

“Fine,” he growled snatching it from the plate and scarfing it in one bite. He chewed and waited. No horrible death yet. Actually the cheese was kinda good. And those weird picked weren’t half ba-

 

“Eep!”

 

Blinding. Fiery. Horrible. Doom.

 

“EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Nny’s hideous shrieks carried all the way to the kitchen sink where he attempted to drown himself via water consumption.

 

“Oops. Sorry about that, I gave you one of my habanero pickled ones,” Mmy said, giggling bashfully.

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Nny ruefully thought, “no wait, I can’t kill him. Then I’ll disembowel him…no wait that won’t work either. Sweet mother of all that is unholy! This is worse than HELL!!”

 

Jimmy was actually standing by with a towel in his hand when Nny finally came up for air.

 

“Here ya go. Sorry about that,” Mmy was smiling the most ridiculously toothy grin Nny had ever the displeasure of witnessing.

 

Jonny’s eye twitched for the umpteenth time that day, “don’t do that.”

 

“Do what?” Mmy said exactly mimicking his previous creepy grin, hideously crooked teeth exposed and all.

 

“Look Jimmy,” Johnny hissed, “there is absolutely NOTHING in the world to be happy about. Not only are we stuck together,” see Johnny’s eye twitch. See it twitch good, “but the cops are going to eventually find this house and then were are completely FOOKED. FOOKED I TELL YOU!! FOOKED!!”

 

Jimmy got a hideous glimmer in his big puppy eyes, “I know exactly what to do.”

 

Johnny stopped in mid rant, “You do huh?”

 

“Yup! And it’s gonna ROCK!!” he squealed.

 

Johnny’s features suddenly became crestfallen.

 

“ROAD TRIP!!!” Jimmy shrieked in sheer delight!

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

V

 

“I got a map, a compass a guidebook,” Jimmy was checking inventory, “and if we can get to my house we can get my truck.”

 

“Great,” Johnny grumbled.

 

As far as he was concerned this little idea would not get off the ground. Nor be cultivated in any sense of the word. There was no way in all HELLISH CREATION that he was going to spend literal HOURS in a truck driven by this…lunatic!

 

“Heh,” he giggled dementedly to himself, “you’re calling someone else a lunatic. You really have gone screaming over the deep end.”

 

The incredible stupidity of the situation was becoming overwhelming.

 

Jimmy mistook his hissing chortling as a _good_ sign.

 

“This is going to be the best trip ever!” he proclaimed, “but first I gotta get to my apartment. Uh Nny, I think you’re gonna have to come with me, what with the explodey death and everything?”

 

Johnny peered eerily over the top of the couch, “Gee let me think for a minute. **No**.”

 

Mmy blinked and slithered closer to the horridly stained and disfigured upholstery. His eyes were just above the chesterfield arm, large and quivering.

 

“But…Nny we gotta get out of here! The police could come any minute and they’d shoot you. And that would be bad. Then we’d both be in hell which really wouldn’t be all that bad for me because it’s not that different from here but you’d be dead. And I’d be sad…” and the rambling went on and on and on and BZZzzzz……

 

Johnny blearily looked at the huge puppy eyes. It was almost…cute in a horribly demented fashion; like a very dead hamster or a small bunny in a vat of goo. And what was this? Oh dear, the incorrigible serial killer himself moved by yet another slight twinge of guilt. What was that memory about? Feeling bad about standing up a very nice girl to go gobble some jock dick after a football game. Huh. Flush that one down the tube for good measure. When would he ever remember anything remotely useful?!

 

Johnny's eyebrow twitched, “Ugh. FINE. But we have to be LOW KEY. I don’t know about you but there’s definitely an all out bulletin for me and we’re both EXTREMELY conspicuous, this town has gone to such astronomical shit the goth community has about forty members in total these days and I'm sure the cops know every one on a first name basis.”

 

And with that he peeled himself regrettably off the couch.

 

“Er..don’t you need a bag or something?” Mmy said scratching his head.

 

“No. Look around. I don’t have anything worth bringing,” he hissed.

 

Not like he was going to stuff the mummified organs of his last victim in a sack or anything.

 

“Ha ha oh yeah right,” Mmy tittered, “oh umm Nny?”

 

“WHAT?!” Johnny shrieked.

 

“What exactly does conspicuous mean again?” Jimmy asked with a blank look on his face.

 

“It means you LOOK LIKE US!!” and with that, the door was kicked wide open and Johnny trudged miserably into the night.

 

Jimmy was not far behind.

 

The apartment was eerily close by and it hardly took fifteen minutes to walk there. Johnny took note that he had never seen Mmy around the neighbourhood before nor noticed his apartment and probably would never want to. But here Johnny was at its door, dejected and irritable.

 

Johnny grumbled, “what a soul crushing fate. But I guess that’s the point of it all isn’t it? Stupid Senor Diablo, I just KNOW he’s responsible for all this…”

 

Jimmy lived on the third floor of an exceedingly shitty, squat apartment building that might have been built in the 1960's as student housing. It looked like crap and smelled faintly of really stale cheese.

 

“I keep a spare key,” Jimmy grinned stupidly grabbing one from a little slot under the ill tiled flooring.

 

Johnny sighed irritably.

 

The door was swung open. An eviction notice was on the floor.

 

“Well –that’s- a relief!” Jimmy said perkily, “I thought they might have stripped the place. Not like anyone cares in this dump.”

 

Johnny peeked in. It was a little messy but considering the hazardous filth Johnny lived in it was manageable. There were piles of comics and magazines all over the place. CD’s and thick, beaten up coffee table books that were about body modification and obscure artists. He kicked around some papers that looked like exams of some kind.

 

“Go to school?” Johnny asked absently.

 

“Just a GED, I was too stupid to finish it though,” Jimmy admonished shrugging.

 

“How shocking,” Johnny mumbled.

 

It was a traditional one bedroom apartment. Johnny peeked inside the bedroom where Jimmy was rummaging for something in a box; he blinked. The entire bedroom was utterly stuffed with gothic clothing of every variety and taste. Virtual leaning towers of clothing abounded in utterly incalculable mounds. What Jimmy lacked in filth he made up for by having several dump trucks worth of clothes vomited all over his room.

 

Johnny perked up, a small light bulb going on in his head, “Anything that’ll fit me?”

 

“Yea there’s some stuff from middle school in here somewhere, just check the box in the closet.”

 

Middle school?! Johnny was almost insulted.

 

“What are you gonna do with them?”

 

“Wear them you idiot. We have to look a little bit less like ourselves. I suggest you do the same,” Johnny grumbled as he rummaged, “the boots are a dead give away but I HATE wearing shoes ugh…oh hey chucks!”

 

He went to change in the grungy puke coloured bathroom. When he was done he checked himself out in the mirror and promptly realized he hadn’t looked in a mirror without some serious delusions in a _really_ long time.

 

300 years of dark bags under his eyes? Check. Fucked up hair resembling a taxidermy gone wrong? Check. Oh hey, it grew back too! Well that was a relief. Spiky horn bangs were far more noticeable then a scraggly potted plant. Pitiful amount of body weight? Yup. He was skin and a bit of bone now. He twitched, that would probably have to change. Out of everything else that was the one thing that was painfully noticeable. Maybe he’d have to toss in an extra fizz wiz a day or something.

 

Despite resembling something shat out of the ass of Hot Topic, he felt he would blend in rather well. He threw his clothes in a box and Jimmy followed suit with some CD’s and a few other miscellaneous items. Both sets of boots were delicately set on top. No goth would ever relinquish their stompy goth boots unless they were literally dead and Johnny, loathe to admit to any stereotype even accurate ones, was no exception.

 

“Wait a second,” Johnny said eyeing Jimmy.

 

Bauhaus band t-shirt. Unassuming black jeans. Chucks and some miscellaneous rings and a nose piercing that was a little off center. Basically like every other ‘gawth’ person out there.

 

“Sufficient.” Johnny said.

 

Jimmy glimmered like he had just been showered in chocolate donuts.

 

“Got my keys, lets go!” he squealed.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

VI

 

They had been driving for what seemed like ETERNITY. Johnny had begun to rifle through the CD’s in the black truck to try and find something to drown out Jimmy’s incessant rambling.

 

“Hmm lessee…Cradle of Filth…Opeth…My Dying Bride oh we’re getting warmer now but what I’d really like is some….HEY Jimmy. Do you have any classical?”

 

Jimmy blinked, “some Beethoven in there somewhere.”

 

“Excellent,” he chortled and smashed the CD into the CD player. Ah, nothing like Beethoven’s fifth to clear the insane mind.

 

“Exactly where are you driving us to Jimmy?” Nny queried as he leaned back into the ruined leather upholstery.

 

“Huh? Oh uh I was thinking we’d go across the border, then maybe up to Canada but that’s a long fucking drive,” he said, “there’s a place about halfway to the state border coming up we can stop at. I’m starving!” Mmy said the last bit with great and mighty emphasis.

 

“Fascinating,” Johnny said, “And what will we do when we get there? To Canada or wherever.”

 

Jimmy shrugged, “I dunno but it would be hard to find a couple of guys like us if we sneak in.”

 

Oh great, thought Johnny, his entire brilliant plan revolved around two goth looking people in matching outfits getting beyond border patrol without arousing any suspicion. Could things possibly get worse?

 

“Of course they can so shut the hell up,” he said to himself sourly, “don’t temp the little gnome god…type…thing…”

 

They stopped at a gas station in the middle of no where. Jimmy filled the tank while Johnny went inside and milled around looking at the snacks. However, as he walked by the checkout he saw a strange girl with pink pig-tails manning the cash. She was like one of those weird portraits who’s eyes followed you every where you went and was that….mindless drool sliding down her face?

 

“Watcha getting?”

 

Johnny squeaked.

 

“Hee! That was SO CUTE!” Jimmy squealed.

 

“Don’t DO that,” Johnny hissed.

 

He nodded towards the strange girl at the cash, “notice her? She’s watching us like some horrific wide eyed cretin.”

 

“I think she likes you Nny,” Jimmy said.

 

Nny shuddered, “don’t even SUGGEST it!”

 

Hideously flustered (this whole not being able to murder every annoyance in his life and get away with it thing was getting OLD) he grabbed his cherry fizz wizz from the counter and went up to the checkout.

 

Jimmy came up with an armload of random crap and set it at the cash with Johnny’s lone slushy beverage.

 

“I’ll get that Nny,” he said.

 

“Awww!!” The creepy girl cooed at the checkout.

 

Johnny’s eyes went huge and he reflexively reached to his boots for his…..oh yeah.

 

“Must NOT murder cashier with sporks. Must NOT try and put her organs on the hot dog grill while she’s still alive must not…” he looked down at the massive pile of crap Jimmy was buying. Sodas, donuts, weird packaged pastry type things, a sub and….

 

“Gin?”

 

“Yeah, for later,” Jimmy said.

 

Johnny arched his brow. Horrid alcohol. What was the reason he didn’t like it? Well he couldn’t really remember right now. Something to do with his no doubt horribly dramatic past if he could cut through all the stupid memories and get to the actual good, useful stuff that didn't involve buckets of lubricant and post coital regret. They had been rung up but the hideous fangirl was still staring at them with her happy, gelatinous eyes and lopsided head. Just then a monster of a woman walked by, large and unkempt with hair growing out of places it probably shouldn’t ever, on anyone. Johnny stared slack jawed at the mind blowingly gruesome image presented to his aesthetically fragile mind.

 

“Out of the way emo trash,” she grunted, shoving Johnny aside.

 

Oooo how he wished he had his knife!

 

“We should get out of here now Nny,” whispered Jimmy.

 

“Right, lets go.”

 

Best to leave before Johnny's resolve finally snapped.

 

They collected their stuff and left quickly to the truck.

 

“I think that creepy beast woman might have recognized us.” Jimmy said.

 

“I think she was just…God I mean…what WAS that?! Some kind of hideous malformed walrus? And all the hideous hair coming out of her nose was GOD..” Johnny raved,

 

Jimmy giggled, “Yeah and the hair on her eyeballs made me want to HURL!”

 

“And that horrible girl with the saucer eyes!”

 

“And the creepy looking poster by the dirty videos! What are those things on their chests even made of?! I'd rather be pollinated by a face hugger!”

 

“Ha!” Johnny said, it was a wretched sound from the back of his throat but Jimmy had mentioned Alien and Johnny loved Alien because just about everyone in the movie died in hilarious ways.

 

They laughed uproariously for several minutes, together. Then Johnny stopped dead and remember who the hell he was actually with.

 

Feel the awkward silence. Boy did it ever stretch for a while.

 

Jimmy cleared his throat, “so I guess we better get going.”

Johnny got into the truck ignoring any tension what so ever besides what lurked between his skinny shoulders. His unfortunate companion was not far behind. However, Jimmy just sat in the truck staring at the wheel for a few minutes. Johnny was about tell Jimmy to get his ass in gear but then he got the glimmer of… was that water?

 

“WAAAAAA!!!” Jimmy latched onto Johnny like he was a life saver in the middle of the ocean.

 

“Oh no no no no! Not the hideous bodily fluids! And the horrible wailing…and what the hell is that poking me in the leg?!” Nny screamed in his head.

 

“I didn’t MEAN to do that awful thing to the cheerleader, I’m an ASSHOLE!!” more wailing and squeezing and Nny’s brain almost leaking out of his ears ensued, “I just wanted to impress you! BOOOO!!!!”

 

Johnny scrambled for whatever last vestiges of his survival response would put an end to the horror, “…guh. Will you let go of me? It’s fine, ok?! FINE.”

 

Jimmy sniffled and relinquished his grip, “really?”

 

Johnny tweaked the corner of his mouth and managed a slightly sickly looking smile, this was a dire situation that required dismantling immediately.

 

“Yeah sure. I forgive you of…whatever moronic things you did. Since you’re a moron. Yeah. God I’m eloquent today,” he relented, rubbing his head irritably, “look I've done some things that I don't exactly think are great but I can't really say I regret...well I've never regretted putting idiots out of their misery, I mean that guy in that band was a dick and that annoying cashier at the stationary store deserved to be hacked apart with her own eyeliner but I certainly regret getting caught in such a stupid way...the point is, you’re an absolute fuck up but that's ok. The entire world is made of dooky and fuck so there's nothing you can personally do about that if your brain is filled with dooky too. And just for the record in case you get anymore bright ideas, that kind of shit? Not impressive. But I think you've learned your lesson since I did in fact murder you and hack you to pieces and stuff the itty bitty bits onto a blood wall filled with sinister inter-dimensional meat monsters so it could burst into reality, when actually I was trying to do the opposite but I should REALLY know by this point not to listen to advice from styrofoam monsters born out of a broken consciousness. In short, we're probably even. ”

 

Jimmy’s eyes filled with water again, “THANK YOU!!!”

 

“AGH!!” Johnny was once again wrapped in the terrible crushing grip of Jimmy’s boney arms.

 

This was quickly becoming the longest trip of his life.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

VII

 

Johnny kicked back his feet on a seriously grungy couch. They managed to find a cheap room with two beds, in what was probably the shittiest motel that was ever shat. Silverfish scurried under the toilet and cockroaches meandered in dank corners in their little room but they had full cable on the television and the price was reasonable enough for two very poor travellers to sleep in, at least one night.

 

Johnny was giggling as he was squishing a bug under his bony fingers.

 

Ah, Mr. Samsa.

 

At least Johnny still had the delightful pleasure of ending his measured, calculated existence free from want and gnawing sentience. ‘When Animals Gnaw People’s Faces Off’ was playing on the television, his penultimate favourite show. With cherry fizz wiz in hand and those two things in his favour, he decided that things weren’t so bad at this point in time; despite who he had to share his motel room with.

 

“Nnnny!!!”

 

The aforementioned punishment squealed his name.

 

“What?!” he said irritably. It was the best part, the part where the army of crabs began eating the redneck’s face off. He didn’t dare move his eyes away from the screen.

 

“I’m going to the corner store for more food. I’m hungry. Want anything?”

 

“So I guess that means you finished eating six person’s worth of food already? Right. And no.” he mumbled.

 

“Kay” Mmy said cheerfully, “I’ll be back.”

 

Johnny swiped his fizz wiz from the little end table by the couch and began chugging it. The crabs were chewing on the red neck’s eyeballs now and to accentuate this fact, the camera panned in for a particularly gruesome close up. It made Johnny cackle with glee. It was about this time that Johnny wondered about the weird lingering taste in his fizzy.

 

Then he saw the _other_ cherry fizz wiz, sitting in the corner.

 

“Oh BLEAH,” he cringed, “I must have taken Jimmy’s. Ugh. It must be tainted or something,” he eyed the fizz wiz suspiciously.

 

The other fizz wiz quietly beckoned him.

 

“Oh well. Not like he’s going to miss it,” he said shrugging. Besides, fizz wizzes were just _good._ Another fizz wiz a day really couldn’t hurt.

 

\---

 

“Hey Nny, I’m back!!” Jimmy squealed kicking open the door.

 

He entered to proverbial crickets chirping. He hummed. All the lights were off too.

 

“Hey Nny,” he called, “you there?”

 

It was when he turned around to shut the door that he was promptly attacked by some unknown assailant.

 

“EEEEEEE!!!!!” the terribly girly shriek echoed into the night.

 

\---

 

Johnny’s head felt like it was going to explode. There was a lot of noise in there, more then a few weird creaky sounds in a rather abstract rhythm. He suspected that half-wit Jimmy was jumping on the bed. He was shockingly calm despite having just woken up; he hated sleep with an undying passion. But he wasn’t in the mood to do a whole lot about the weird noises or the fact he felt so groggy since his head felt like it was several sizes too big.

 

A couple seconds later and he blacked out again.

 

His eyes blearily focused. He was in the darkly lit motel room. The light was trickling in through the crap green paisley curtains illuminating all the cruddy dust floating around in the room. He groaned and rolled over. His head felt horrible, his mouth felt like he had chewed on one of those crabs from the TV show last night and he had the worst stomach ache in all inhuman existence.

 

It was exactly then, that he realized he was naked.

 

That got his attention. He snapped up and then soon regretted it. His head swam.

 

“Ugh, sweet GIBLETS what the hell happened last night,” he couldn’t recall anything but exceptionally hazy details.

 

“Ok ok wait…I can do this.” He waved his arms around wildly trying to keep some sort of balance.

 

“I drank a couple of fizz wiz’s. One of which being Jimmy’s….then…er….” his broken mind came up with a total blank.

 

He reeled, “oh MAN I need…tylenol…or another bullet to the head…gawd…”

 

Johnny managed to crawl off of the bed, into his clothes (which were oddly laying all over the room) grab some meds, crunch them down and slither all the way back up under the covers. The light was killing his brain so he wrapped himself up in a cocoon of stiff hotel sheets and misery. He’d figure it out later, he acquiesced; right now he felt like his grey matter was on the bottom of a Drill Sergeant’s boot.

 

A door slowly creaked open.

 

“Er…hey Nny?” A familiar voice called out.

 

He uttered a miserable grumble from under the sheets.

 

“Oh you’re up. Umm well I hope you aren’t mad at me or anything about last night…”

 

Johnny’s ears perked up, “eh? What last night. What am I supposed to be mad at you for?” he grumbled under the blankets.

 

Honestly, there was a list as long as Nny's entire skinny body that involved things he ought to be angry at Jimmy over, so this was hardly anything startling.

 

There was as long pause, “Oh um nevermindwecantalkaboutitlater!!”

 

Johnny twitched, “whatever. Look you mind keeping it a decibel below thunder? My brain is oozing out of my ears right now, kay?”

 

“yeah sure. Need anything?”

 

“My dignity.”

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind.”

 

\---

 

They were back in the truck once Johnny had recovered enough to take two steps without feeling like he was going to toss his cookies all over the lawn. He hated vomiting with an insane passion, so he had fought tooth and nail to keep from eschewing the contents of his stomach all over that cheap little room.

 

He sank into the truck seat with much agony, rubbing his forehead.

 

Jimmy took the wheel as usual, leaving behind the dingy little motel that Johnny was more then glad to see go.

 

About an hour passed before Johnny felt safe enough to open his mouth without the threat of hideous contents spewing forth.

 

“Jimmy…what the hell happened last night?”

 

Another long and apprehensive pause.

 

“You drank my fizz wiz.”

 

“Ok….and?”

 

Feel the weight of the awkward silence.

 

“It had gin in it.”

 

“Oh. Well that explains the headache. So, lets be terribly indelicate right now, not that I think you’re terribly acquainted with manners or anything but WHY THE FUCK DOES IT HURT TO WALK?”

 

Jimmy almost drove off the road. He settled on the gravel side off the highway and sat quietly for once in his entire life, as cars whizzed past.

 

Johnny was staring at him, one eye very large, the other formed into an accusatory squint.

 

“Kay…you have to promise that if I tell you what happened, you won’t beat me up. Or disembowel me. I may be indestructible but that reeeeaaallly hurts.”

 

Johnny eyed him, “And what if I can’t?”

 

“Umm. I just won’t tell.”

 

Johnny slapped his hand to his forehead, “you’re an idiot. Okay, okay, I won’t do anything TOO horrible.”

 

“Right…,” Mmy said hesitantly.

 

Jimmy began his story. Cars flew past on the highway drowning out his voice as he regaled detail after horrible detail. Johnny’s eyes grew wide and then even wider as Jimmy continued. The mortifyingly detailed explanation went on for almost ten whole minutes. A second later he had Jimmy by the collar with the most murderous look on the planet.

 

“You said I did WHAT?! With YOU! Sweet DOOKIE!”

 

“I couldn’t get you OFF of me!!”

 

“Wait wait…” Johnny said, backing off for a minute, “I supposedly leap on you after consuming a single alcohol laden cheery fizz wiz- which leads to a night of mad debauchery that you say is somehow MY FAULT?”

 

“You ATTACKED me!!” Jimmy squealed.

 

“This doesn’t make any SENSE!!”

 

Johnny wracked his brain with mighty force. Suddenly, floating up the surface of his horrible deranged memories it all became clear. Horrible images of drunken orgy parties in art school hovered around in his head. Many. Many. Of these parties. And lots and lots of booze consumption. That was it. There. There was his reason for hating that dreadful substance. He hated alcohol now because it had a tendency to make him into a creature of _pure bohemian abandon_.

 

Feel Johnny's horror at enjoying physical pleasures and having a good time that doesn't involve limb dismemberment.

 

“Sweet merciful FOOK,” he flew to the back window plastering himself against it, breathing hard.

 

Jimmy wailed, “I’m SO SORRY!! I knew you hated touchy stuff and everything but you just wouldn’t stop!! And then you grabbed my- and then!! AND I LIKE YOU SO MUCH. I couldn’t HELP MYSELF!!”

 

“Shut up. JUST SHUT UP. We never speak of this again. Kay?! Never!”

 

Jimmy nodded with tearful eyes.

 

“Ok then. That’s settled. Keep driving.” Johnny crawled back into the seat, mortified beyond all recompense.

 

It was dead silent for a good hour and half.

 

“Ahem…I’d just like to say…you give really good head.”

 

See the truck screaming across the highway. See the truck swerve and hit a barricade. See Johnny chasing Jimmy with a really big rock around the wreckage. Oh boy.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...here there be plot. I can't believe I'm finally finishing this fanfic. Funny story, I found all my notes for it when I went looking so this is going to be almost exactly what I planned all those years ago but probably better written. Enjoy!

VIII

 

The truck had been brutalized. Well, there went their delightful escape plans. Where the hell were they anyway? America was a large, gigantic country and nowhere was this more evident than in New Mexico where scrub brush and tilted, broken down trees and empty abandoned gas stations went for miles endlessly in a pseudo desert.

 

“OW!” Jimmy said, peeling himself off the asphalt, “being beaten to death REALLY hurts!”

 

“Heh,” Johnny said, kicking a rock.

 

It was a small pleasure he would cling to. Well, realistically he could just brutalize and maim Mmy again and again to like, let off some steam or something. But being mean and murdering someone were two different things and it just wasn't the same without the hovering threat of oblivion over someone's head. If Johnny thought about it too much, he'd just get depressed.

 

“Wow, look at those rocks!” Jimmy pointed out.

 

The burning sun was starting to come up and baste the entire scrub desert with its agonizingly beautiful light, like a pile of vomit from a particularly ambitious clown who had eaten all the children's confetti from a balloon kit. If they were very unlucky, Johnny figured they'd both die of exposure before anyone came screaming along the deserted highway. It looked practically unused and it wasn't like either of them brought supplies. Johnny was great at murdering people and making their miserable lives stretch out as long as possible so he could enjoy their torment. But a survivalist? He wasn't. He still considered it worth the cost of the truck to pound Jimmy's head into bloody, satisfying pulp on the pavement.

 

And where the hell were they again?

 

Wait.

 

This all looked so...familiar.

 

The road and the rock and the-

 

“Hey!” Jimmy shouted, “where you going?”

 

There was a small offshoot road that looked old and a bit derelict that lead twirling into the desert over some hills. Johnny jogged down it, until he realized it wasn't like he got regular exercise and began panting after oh, two minutes. He briskly walked instead after that.

 

“Hey! Hey Nny! Hey! Hey!” Jimmy said, running after him.

 

He was right, the road DID lead somewhere. Somewhere that suspiciously looked like Johnny's old house. From the before times. At the moment the sunrise reached over the mountains, the whole derelict structure was painted in a halo of light.

 

“This place is cool,” Jimmy said, “is that a tower? This place must be really old!”

 

Johnny didn't say anything. He couldn't. If ever he had believed even for a moment in something even approaching an intelligent universe; a knowing twist of fate or a tiny butt scraping of destiny from some deity’s anus falling down from the sky in front of his eyes, this had to be it.

 

It was his house. His family home. The place he had grown up.

 

“Whoah,” Jimmy said, “maybe there was a murder here. Look at all the police tape!”

 

Criss crossed and faded and definitely aged by the sun, the yellow caution tape crossed around in front of the house like a happy little beacon of a mystery waiting to be unwrapped inside.

 

“FINALLY!”Johnny shrieked, startling the hell out of Jimmy.

 

He ran inside the house ripping through the caution tape and bursting in....to a surprisingly normal hallway that lead to an even more ordinary kitchen. Sure, everything looked a bit old and sun eaten, the curtains downstairs had long ago dissolved to nothing. But everything else, despite being covered in dust looked surprisingly well intact and fairly modern. And when he poked his head out the back door, there was one of those Mexican craft tables out back with four jaunty looking sun faded metal chairs that had been rusting ever so slowly for who knows how long.

 

It actually looked quite...normal. It looked like a home. It even had paint on the walls, for goodness sakes. Like someone had...cared. When Johnny looked up the pleasant stairway that had floral wallpaper racing up its walls he felt a sense of....something. Something like fear.

 

“What are you doi-” Jimmy began but was silenced by Johnny's skinny fingers smashing against his face.

 

“SHHHHHH.” Johnny said.

 

Jimmy wasn't sure what was going on, but he sure did like being touched by Johnny again, so he kept quiet.

 

Johnny went up the stairs, while Jimmy followed.

 

It was nice. The bedrooms that is, there were about four rooms upstairs though one was clearly a broken down bathroom. The toilet had actually fallen through the floor into another room downstairs at some point...but all the pipes and fittings and everything were still in there.

 

And there it was. What Johnny was hoping to find. A little poster was slapped onto the door of one particular room. It was a pocket sized poster, the kind that used to be handed out in old, derelict theatres. 'BRAZIL' it said, with a little symbol of a man flying in a metallic suit. Johnny's favourite movie.

 

“Was this...was this YOUR ROOM?” Jimmy squealed ecstatically.

 

Jimmy was a bit of an idiot, sure, but he was also an encyclopedia concerning his most favourite person in the whole wide world. He knew exactly which music Johnny liked and what kind of food he ate and he was really, really happy to add things like 'he puts one sock on his right foot first that's usually black and the one on the left is always striped and Johnny's underwear is actually black somehow because finding black underwear in Walmart is harder than it sounds and like, does he get them off the internet or what? They're kinda sexy.' but nothing, nothing would have been as deliriously ecstasy inducing as fondling some of Johnny's precious childhood memories. That was REAL information, the stuff even the most ardent homeless person fan of Noodle Boy couldn't even get.

 

“Hey wait, we're not that old,” Jimmy said, “where are your parents?”

 

“Dead,” Johnny said.

 

Jimmy blinked at his idol.

 

Boy had he ever thought about killing his own parents sometimes. Had Johnny actually done it? That would make him even COOLE-

 

“Don't get the wrong idea,” Johnny said, darkly, “revelations of this kind are often miserable, putrid things that have been left to rot for a reason.”

 

“Huh?” Jimmy said.

 

“Just shut up and come with me,” Johnny said.

 

The sick feeling in his stomach must have been intense if he'd wanted someone, anyone, including Jimmy to follow him into his old room.

 

It was...pretty unremarkable actually. Kinda blue. Nice curtains that were only a little moth eaten. The empty frame of a bed, a chair and a desk that had probably come from another Mexican craft fair of some kind, since it was so colourful and bright. When Johnny looked at the desk, he realized what the pattern made in tiny, glass squares. It was the stars at night.

 

“Whoah,” Jimmy said, “this is SO CUTE!!! I would have LOVED this room when I was like, ten or something.”

 

Jimmy pranced around looking at everything, kneeling on the ground to peer under the bed, opening closets but Johnny only had eyes for one thing. A plain white box that sat on the desk, unremarkable. Unassuming.

 

His terrible, sinister, traumatic dark past must be in there. Right? RIGHT??

 

“BLEEDING ANUSES,” Johnny shrieked, tearing open the cover of the box, “GIVE ME MY MEMORIES”

 

The dramatic moment was dampened a wee bit when the dust poofed up Johnny's nose and he began coughing and choking like crazy.

 

“Careful,” Jimmy said, “I once got a horrible sinus infection from sniffing a rotten mouse I found in the neighbour's garbage.”

 

Johnny decided he would never, ever ask what the hell the point of that had been.

 

Inside the box there was....something. A few somethings. Some stacks of papers, an old diploma from an art school (he was a grad of anything? That was news to him.) Receipts for student loan payments, income tax stuff. When had Johnny filed income tax last? Probably whatever date was on the box. And down at the bottom turned upside down was something Johnny felt a little conflicted about.

 

His old student ID from high school.

 

_Carlos Johannson._

 

Well, the name was different but it was definitely him in all his awkward adolescent glory. That might explain why it had been so difficult to find out anything about his memories, anyone of age could legally change their name at any time. Go figure.

 

Flipping it over Johnny saw himself the way he hadn't in...well, forever really.

 

He just looked kinda normal.

 

A little gloomy sure, a bit thin cause yeah, nothing would have changed his skeletal frame short of a miracle but he looked like....just like any other mildly gothic guy. He even had an innocent sort of air around his eyes, like he was very nervous getting a photo done. A little unsure of himself.

 

But there wasn't much else in the box, just paper work and stuff. And two death certificates taped together in a mini stack of official looking paperwork.

 

“Here it is,” Johnny mumbled to himself, “the good stuff. The real deal! All the reasons I've been longing for, the mystery solved! Murder, horror, agony unleashed!”

 

Johnny held the papers over his head like a talisman, he tore open the sticky paper that had sealed the packet closed and expected to read some torrid story of murder and revenge and trauma and....

 

Well.

 

That was...something.

 

But not quite what he'd expected.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

IX

 

“Hey,” Jimmy said, after Nny had gone quiet for a super long time, “Hey. Hey Nny. Hey. Heeeeey. HeeEEEEeeeey. HEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.”

 

“You ever built up expectations about yourself that turned out to be untrue?” Johnny said.

 

He wasn't really expecting a response, this was Jimmy here, not exactly a philosopher on the best of days.

 

“Um, no?” Jimmy said, “I mean, sure I wanted to go uh, somewhere in life. A bit. Maybe. But I really didn't have much of a purpose until I met you. And I got killed by you! My very own idol! Then I went to hell, which is like SO COOL you know? How many people can say 'yep, met the devil he was pretty chill'! And my DREAMS came true, right? I just wanted to see something neat, something different! And I totally did! HA! I bet those assholes in high school would be just BURNING with envy if they knew!”

 

Considering the kind of boring, human tumours that existed out there in the real world with like, mortgages and real jobs and stuff, Johnny sincerely doubted they thought of much except their miserable lives at the bottom of a bottle after too much work and too little stimulation. The minds of the common sheep weren't worth worrying about until they did something REALLY annoying or wouldn't shut up, or acted out or did anything to aggravate him and and and WHY was he like this???!!

 

“AUUUGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!” Johnny shrieked hurling the box into the air, “THIS IS ALL MADE OF DOOKY AND FUCK! What is the POINT in coming into the world if all that there is is some STUPID existence made of nothing but boredom and PISS and failure and guilt and AUUGhgghhHAHFGHADAHDH!!!!!!”

 

“Uhm,” Jimmy said, totally unsure what might have set Nny off this time, “are you okay? Not gonna crush my head with a rock again, are you?”

 

“If only that would solve my problems,” Johnny said, leaning towards the window. He looked outside at the contemptible daylight hating every speck of light illuminating every speck of dust. He considered his options.

 

Well.

 

He already technically owned the house. And no one knew about it. And it was technically all bought and paid for under someone else's name.

 

“We're staying here for a while,” Johnny said.

 

“COOL!” said Jimmy, then he considered, “where exactly are we, anyway?”

 

“My hometown,” Johnny said, “there's a whole city up the road a few miles. Now shut up and let me be in emotional agony for a while.”

 

“...there a bathroom?” Jimmy said.

 

“Across the hall,” Johnny said absently.

 

Jimmy knew that something was off but none the less, he really had to pee. So he left Johnny to his thoughts and...promptly realized Johnny had been talking about the room that had collapsed, so Jimmy did what any sane man would do when he had to go take a leak and wandered outside to water a cactus.

 

Meanwhile....

 

Johnny's mind went on a little trip down memory lane. Conversations flitted through his head, stuff he wanted to remember, things he hadn't. It had all been right there inside of him the whole time, if he'd only had the courage to look.

 

BBBBBBBBBZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...................................

 

Standing outside his parents bedroom at sixteen. Not normal behaviour for a teenager and usually a bad idea to keep your sanity because ugh, parents do stuff together in their own room. But he knew nothing like that was going on...it hadn't in a long time.

 

“I don't want to leave the two of you in debt,” a woman's voice, soft and clear.

 

“It doesn't matter,” a man's voice, low and rough, “we'll try the treatment. Don't you think Carlos wants you at his graduation?”

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....................................

 

Mom and Dad and dinner and the dark spectre of death hanging over the dinner plates.

 

“It's okay,” Johnny had said, rapidly jumping up from the table, “I'm not hungry either.”

 

“Sit down, young man,” his father's calm voice, so quiet, very much like his own, “someone here has to live, isn't that right Rosa?”

 

“Let him get up if he wants to,” Mom was always on his side, always so nice to him and smart too, “he's a growing young man. He's got better things to do than placate his parents.”

 

Dad was so angry. Hate and love locked together. The intensity of two lives lived together boiled down to months left to work out their shit and boy, they'd lived a lot. And had a lot of shit to work through.

 

Johnny wasn't really a part of that. He was just a late comer to the show.

 

BBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...................................

 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

 

Mother in the garden. It was a bit rough around the edges, neither Johnny or his Dad were good gardeners and she could barely stand. She sat in a wheelchair surrounded by flowers that would live longer than she would.

 

“I don't know,” Johnny said, he'd never known anything back then.

 

Nothing but the fact he had loved his parents. Liked his house, his nice room. Wanted to go to school for well, something. High school had _sucked._

 

“Maybe an artist?” he'd finally said.

 

His mom had liked that. She loved buying paintings from the fair, picking up furniture that people had painted. She had no talent herself but...she liked his drawings.

 

More importantly she had liked him a lot more than he had liked himself. Especially after high school. Because...he'd....been in trouble....for something...........

 

really...

 

bad.................

 

BBBBBBBBBBBZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................................................

 

“I could ask him,” mother's voice.

 

Johnny stood outside their bedroom, quiet. Silent. He was good at this game.

 

“Don't even,” his father said.

 

“He has all the markers of sociopathic tendencies I mean, look at what he did to the basement. He built himself a damn pet cemetery, trying to get back at those kids who were mean to him.”

 

“Stop it,” Dad had said.

 

“Don't give me that look. He's going to be fine, he doesn't feel things the way we do but he has a bit more direction now...he's our son, isn't he? If someone acts out, you just love them harder.”

 

“...I don't think it's love he needs,” his Dad had said, “I think he needs help from a specialist.”

 

“I'm not using his college fund for _that_ ,” his mother had spat, “so don't even think it. Our little boy wants to be an artist.”

 

So much pride in those words. He hadn't wanted to be a disappointment, not to someone who loved him that much.

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.................................................

 

It would have been his first murder if she had asked. But it wasn't to be.

 

That had belonged to someone else.

 

“Get out of the room,” his Dad said sternly.

 

Dad never spoke harshly to him, he was a pacifist.

 

“Go on.”

 

Johnny stared at the small bottle on the nightstand and the empty syringe. He knew what his Dad had done. He knew what he was about to do.

 

Blame it on him.

 

The first time Johnny had seen a human corpse. Well. That was a bit of a downer. It had been his own mother.

 

Someone who really hadn't deserved any of that shit. She wasn't perfect but she had loved him.

 

Hadn't she?

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzz............................

 

“Why did you call the police?”

 

Johnny at the station, just him looking around the white room. So much fuss around murder. It was almost nice being the centre of attention.

 

Johnny shrugged.

 

“Seemed like the right thing to do?” he said.

 

His Dad went to prison and didn't even look at him.

 

He just knew.

 

He loved him but...

 

He knew.

 

In the basement the smell of rot was permeating up through the floor.

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz........................

 

They'd loved each other but they hadn't really loved _him_.

 

Johnny got that now. He went to art school. He came home. The house was so lonely. He went out to party.

 

Yay alcohol. Yay sex. Yay pleasure.

 

Yay.

 

Emptiness.

 

He dug holes in the basement for fun. They were just empty little graves waiting for something to fill them up, just like him.

 

People didn't like other people who killed animals, if the owner deserved it or not. And there were some real pieces of shit in the outside world, nobody was as nice as his parents (imperfect as they had been) and they were all gone. Nobody to answer to. He could...do....anything....but.....

 

he......

 

was....

 

alone.

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz........................................

 

Death by prison riot. Dad had been a pacifist. He'd tried to frame Johnny for his own mother's murder. His Dad had gone to his death thinking he had done the right thing, done right by the woman he'd loved, tried to help his son unconventional as his approach had been.

 

Johnny laughed a little in his empty house. He'd even left the police tape up. It looked funny.

 

He'd change his name or something, go to another place. He'd graduated. The house was paid for. He could always come back....

 

always...

 

if...

 

he....

 

liked......

 

..............it would always be here, wouldn't it?

 

In the desert along with all those fond memories.

 

BBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......................

 

“I thought you'd like it,” a girl, “it's just a styrofoam pig but yeah. I mean, we're friends right? What's a little weird art project between friends huh.”

 

Just friends. Right.

 

“Yeah,” Johnny said.

 

He'd say just about anything to get her to stay.

 

“Totally.”

 

Until it all went _so wrong_.

 

BBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......................

 

_I think he needs a relocation. Existence is such a drab, drab party without..........._

 

Voices in his head. The touch of something ephemeral from the other side of a wall.

 

There was another hole in the basement that was occupied.

 

If only other people weren't such damn disappointments. Flesh, need, want. All these things just made people unpleasant. He watched a bug crawl across the floor. What a measured existence. No want or need beyond survival. His father had credit, he could totally buy a house. The debts had been paid by the life insurance, extra money for wrongful death. He could live anywhere.

 

He chose Heaven.

 

777.

 

It was perfect.

 

It was a nightmare.

 

It was lonely.

 

It led him all...

 

the way....

 

to now.....

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......................

 

How disappointing. Though his Dad had been a massive jerk what it really came down to was a sick, primal fear that had come true.

 

The suspicion that Johnny had nursed for a while. That the worst thing to ever happen to him...

 

Had been himself.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

X

“Hey,” Jimmy attempted, “you okay?”

 

“I could kill again,” Johnny pondered aloud, while still gazing out the window, “how many ass lancing specimens of human waste murder people and get away with it?”

 

“Uh,” Jimmy said, “I mean, I watched a lot of documentaries on serial killers cause I wanted to get to know you but you weren't like, easy to get to know. Most of them act all normal and stuff and murder people on the side. It really made you different! You were so committed to the lifestyle! Not like those poseurs!”

 

Johnny? Get a normal job? Live a normal life?

 

HA.

 

“Yeah no,” Johnny said, “probably not worth it.”

 

Johnny wandered downstairs and considered his options. They didn't have a car but there was a town not that far from here. Maybe three and a half hours walking straight through the desert. Not a trip one wanted to make in broad daylight under the beating sun but at night? As long as they dressed warm, well, he didn't think a random murder to get a vehicle would be pinned on him straight away.

 

“EXPLODING ASS WIPES!” Johnny shrieked in frustration.

 

He missed killing assholes! It was his life's ambition! The whole art thing hadn't...quite...well, worked out. Everyone needed a back up plan. 'Serial Killer' was as good as anything and hey, it wasn't like he was....

 

alone....

 

or anything.

 

“You're stuck with me,” Johnny said, as if realizing it for the first time.

 

Jimmy yelped, it was certainly flattering and wonderful and nerve wracking to be the centre of attention of those creepy piercing eyes. Actually it was almost like the moment before Jimmy had been killed and Johnny had went on a huge philosophical rant about....stuff. Jimmy hadn't been paying attention to that bit, he'd been busy getting disemboweled by his idol. Really, if that wasn't movie perfect what was?!

 

And hot.

 

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, “that's what Senor Diablo said.”

 

“So no matter what I did to you,” Johnny said, “you could never ever leave.”

 

“Yup,” Jimmy said, not sure whether to get aroused or to run for his life, “that's the deal.”

 

“And when I die, you die,” Johnny said, “but not before.”

 

“Yeah-huh,” Jimmy said, “Uhm, I'm kinda hungry. Can we go get something to eat?”

 

Johnny's eyebrow twitched.

 

“You're the most annoying person I've ever met,” Johnny said, “but for the record, I think I'm in love with you.”

 

Jimmy froze. He processed this information. The gears in his head creaked to life. A dead hamster on a barely spinning hamster wheel flopped a few times as it slowly turned.

 

He'd just-

 

Had he-

 

“WHAT?!” Jimmy said, completely unable to process anything anymore.

 

“Don't expect to ever hear that again,” Johnny snapped, “there's nothing more to do now but wait for night fall. And make this wreck habitable. I think there's building supplies and stuff in the shed out back. Are you helping me, or what?”

 

Jimmy stood stock still. His eyes filled with water.

 

_Dammit, don't cry!_

 

Johnny didn't like tears. Johnny didn't like a lot of things. Well, Jimmy was pretty sure there were relationship books about that stuff he could borrow from the library or something to sort that out, he was just SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

A tiny sound vibrated at the back of Jimmy's throat. It was almost a full fledged squeal but the murderous look Johnny gave him made him dampen the hell out of that.

 

I mean, yeah Johnny loved him. But Johnny also knew how to behead people with a single swing of a shovel and even Jimmy had enough sense not to push his luck too far just yet. Being indestructible was great in concept but wow, even dying hadn't hurt as much as being mashed into the pavement.

 

Then Jimmy thought of something else. Oh man. If they were in a relationship.....HE COULD ASK FOR SEX.

 

Jimmy tried to keep himself from exploding from excitement but Johnny it seemed, being quite a smart person, caught on quickly to what might have Jimmy vibrating on the edges of his heels while they were picking through disgusting, half rotten plant material in a garden shed for useful building tools.

 

“Don't get any ideas,” Johnny said, threateningly.

 

“Sure,” Jimmy said.

 

After all, he could always buy more gin or something if he got desperate. He wasn't beyond spiking Johnny's drink to grease the wheels a bit among...other...bits...

 

“HehHehehe,” Mmy giggled.

 

“I know what you're thinking,” Johnny said handing him a shovel, “and I would seriously consider the consequences of your actions. Like being boiled alive. Beheaded by a bread knife after hours of sawing. Having your genitals put through a lawn mower.”

 

_Totally worth it!_ Jimmy thought gleefully.

 

“Sure Nny!” Jimmy said with gusto.

 

“Oh and I think I need to take care of something I should have taken care of a long time ago,” Johnny added, then he looked around their derelict surroundings, “once this place is habitable again.”

 

It was doubtful that particular issue would be a problem. If there was anything Johnny could count on, it was whatever Johnny loved, Jimmy would love too.

 

Besides they both would probably have a lot in common...if there was one thing Johnny could smell a mile away it was kids with bad parents.

 

“His name is Squee. Well actually, it's something like Todd Casil but that doesn't matter. He has problems but I think we can work with them-”

 

It was truly the beginning of a new era.

 

Finally.

 

Johnny had all the answers again.

 

Quite some time later, there was a house in New Mexico out in the desert that was suddenly occupied. It looked like an adobe that had been abandoned for a while. The yard was bare aside from some cacti and barren shrubs that dotted the front yard mostly composed of desert. The backyard however, was at least clean and a few colourful chairs and a table that looked like the stars sat outdoors under a broken down, dry as hell tree that crooked just slightly enough to resemble something from a haunted house. Leaning against the side was the only brand new thing that had been on the property in years; a shiny blue bike.

 

“YIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!” a blood curdling scream tore through the evening.

 

“Uhm,” a boy of about ten looked up at the two men struggling over the kitchen sink.

 

Johnny had an electric drill poised right above Jimmy's temple and a murderous look in his eye.

 

“That's for the daquiri LAST NIGHT AND THE HANDCUFFS YOU- oh, hi Squee. We're just fooling around, give me a minute.”

 

Johnny let up his grip around Jimmy's neck who politely stepped off to the side. Jimmy had been reading a lot of books lately about compromise and sharing responsibility and all that stuff, so they could work out their issues without scarring the little Squee thing (as Johnny loved to call him). Things Jimmy's parents could have certainly benefited from learning, really. Jimmy and the small Squee had a lot in common actually, including a drug addled mother.

 

“When the benzos hit during my kindergarten graduation, she just puked right in the principal's lap!” Jimmy had said, giggling.

 

“Mom once tried to bake me in the oven,” Squee said, “she kept calling me a turkey, which was kinda funny until she tried to eat me.”

 

“HA! Yeah they do that,” Jimmy said, slapping his thigh, “MOTHERS am I right?!”

 

It had really made Squee feel a lot better even if everything out there in the wide world was scary and horrible. These people really _got_ him. The kids at school even kept a wide berth and after years of torment, that was an undeniable mercy. Squee lived in the scary house with the weird noises at night. No one _ever_ went there.

 

“So what can I do for you, small Squee thing?” Johnny said, laying the drill down by the blood spattered sink.

 

“I need a permission slip signed,” Squee said, “we're going on a field trip to the art gallery.”

 

“Right,” Johnny said, a slight glimmer in his normally beady eyes, “not a problem.”

 

The pen may have been red from blood or its own ink but none the less, the permission was dutifully signed by Carlos Johannson. Squee wasn't sure who that actually was but his teachers seemed to know, which was the only important bit.

 

Actually, whatever Squee wanted (and he really didn't want for much, considering his origins and what he had to make do with before) was freely granted. It was quite a strange thing, really. He even had his own room with a desk that looked like the stars at night.

 

Sure, he had to do chores which was a new thing but he always had company.

 

“We're on digging duty!” Jimmy would cheerfully say and hand him a small Squee sized shovel.

 

The basement wasn't even that scary even if it smelled funny. And he and Jimmy had a lot of fun digging down into the dirt. Sometimes he even got to keep the little animal skulls if they weren't too rotten. He called one Shmee since his poor teddy had been destroyed during one of his father's angry fits. It sat on the edge of the window in his room, its eternal smile cheerful and uplifting.

 

Squee slept well in his new room. Just like the dead. And he wasn't even worried anymore that aliens would come cause Nny would protect him just like he said.

 

“Besides,” Johnny had said to him, “people are far worse than extra-terrestrials don't you think?”

 

Squee certainly agreed with that sentiment. He had no idea what his parents were up to these days, he knew that Johnny hadn't killed them because he had made sure, but he was just glad to be far, far away from them.

 

In a little house under the desert stars.

 

“I think it's time for bed,” Johnny said, “I could tell you a story if you like.”

 

“That's ok,” Squee said, “I'll see myself to bed.”

 

Johnny's stories were still, well, not the kind of thing Squee liked to fall asleep listening to. Squee got ready for bed in the remodelled bathroom, put on his jammies by himself which wasn't so lonely anymore and snuggled under his covers with a nice book. When the light was turned out, little glowing stars were above his head. Johnny and Jimmy had spent an afternoon gluing them to ceiling so he'd have a nice night light if he woke up frightened.

 

“YIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

 

The familiar screams and drilling sounds coming from the kitchen downstairs helped lull Squee into a peaceful sleep.

 

~THE END~

 


End file.
